


XOXO - W

by cutecobain



Series: southern and unimpressed with things that aren't america [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8tracks fic, Americans at Hogwarts oh DEAR, Gen, Ravenclaw Forever, cool joke family, i'm not sorry for any of this, poor McGonagall she's gonna have a headache forever, somehow this ended up being mostly letters, this is not for you, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutecobain/pseuds/cutecobain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>poor minerva makes a terrible mistake and cole and lottie make a new friend<br/>also this is heavy on fireworks and i don't know how that happened</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> COOL JOKE FAMILY BEGINS RIGHT NOW GET FRIGGIN PUMPED  
> or don't really i don't care if you're not bowiez  
> seriously zoe i think this one was your idea so it's your fault

McGonagall had no one to blame but herself, really. 

There was no doubt that they would all meet sometime in the near future, maybe even eventually become preferred customers at his shop – but nothing like this. The chances of those girls becoming practically part of the family, of gaining him as mentor and trusted advisor, were actually fairly slim, but Minerva, in a moment of panic, inadvertently set in motion the very events she was so desperate to avoid. 

But she really should have known better. 

\----

Shortly after the start of April, Lottie and Cole received identical letters with the morning post. Both letters were addressed to both girls – one letter copied over, so they would each get their own. How thoughtful. It was their habit, now, to never open their post until they were settled in their dorm after dinner, especially after George Stanley had decided to get even for the whole “taxation without representation” thing by sending them envelopes full of bugs, so the Headmistress was entirely oblivious. 

Imagine their surprise when they opened their letters and found not another annoyed reproval from American embassy about diplomacy, but a single sentence:

“Misses Carlotta Hyde and Nicolasa Silva,  
Who the hell are you and why is McGonagall so frantic to keep me from meeting you?  
-George Weasley”

Flabbergasted, the girls stared at each other for a solid minute before Cole started giggling. Lottie joined in, and the girls laughed until they couldn’t breathe.  
Wiping tears from her eyes, Cole gasped out, “So, are you gonna write it, or should I?”  
Lottie caught her breath. “I’ll do it.” She looked down at the wrinkled letter in her hands. “Oh my god, this is the best thing that has ever happened to us.”  
“And the funniest,” Cole agreed. “We should send Minnie a fruit basket to thank her for whatever it was she did.”

\---

“What she did” was send George a letter on his birthday. April 1st was always a day to dread at Hogwarts, but even more so now that the next generation of pranksters were vying for the honor of being dubbed “the next Weasley twins.” Every year it seemed some group determined to make their mark on Hogwarts pranking history did something or other to celebrate the twins’ birthday. This year, a few 6th years let off a case of WWW fireworks in the Great Hall at breakfast, in homage to the boys’ explosive farewell all those years ago. Not very creative or original, but just disruptive enough to give her a headache and, even worse, to catch the eyes of _those girls_. She had been dreading Miss Hyde and Miss Silva’s discovery of WWW, but it was after breakfast, when she overheard a few older Ravenclaws explaining to the first years about the genius of Fred and George Weasley, that her blood ran cold. The girls had impressed and calculating looks on their faces; they were asking about mail order services! Oh no. No. Definitely not. She was not going to sit back and let this happen. They’d already cornered the market on shaming bullies by making a scene, and they weren’t even 12 yet. They were not going to get WWW products until the summer at the earliest, and she was going to make sure they did not contact George. That was the last thing she needed. She squared her shoulders and made a beeline for her office. She had a letter to write.

Later, she would admit that perhaps she had overreacted a bit.

\---

George was pleased, but surprised to get a letter from his former Transfiguration professor on his birthday. What surprised him even more was the way the majority of the letter had nothing to do with his birthday.

“Dear Mr. Weasley,” it read, “It has recently come to my attention that two of my current students have developed an interest in your wares. If you have any respect left for me, you will refrain from selling them anything until they are at least 13. Their names are Carlotta Hyde and Nicolasa Silva. Let me repeat myself: please do not, under any circumstances, sell your products to these girls until they are of an appropriate age. If they contact you, please do not respond. Please. If you do, Mr. Weasley, I shall be quite disappointed in you.  
Please do not disappoint me.  
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall  
P.S. Have a very happy birthday, George.”

George hummed, perplexed. Some small girls (they weren’t even 13!) had McGonagall so in a tizzy that she was desperate enough to try to guilt him into, well, not acting like himself. He grinned. Well. He respected the hell out of Minerva, so, naturally, he would respect her requests. He wouldn’t sell them anything until they were 13. And they hadn’t contacted him, so technically the letters was going to write them weren’t a _response_ per say…

\----

Nicole and Carla stayed up half the night giggling and rewriting the letter that George received the next evening.

“Dear Mr. Weasley,

It was such an honor, sir, to receive your letter. It was an even greater honor, if you’ll forgive us saying so, to realize that our most beloved Headmistress has been watching over us so diligently! She’s so concerned for our welfare. We try every day to deserve her. 

To answer your question, good sir, we are but humble schoolgirls. First year Ravenclaws, to be precise. (We like precise.) (We also like not precise.) As for why beloved Minerva is so anxious for us to avoid your acquaintance, well, we suppose her reasons are her own, and we would never dare presume to speak for her. 

It is our understanding that you have recently had a birthday. You must allow us to send you our warmest regards and hope that your birthday celebration was as magnificent there as it was here. Speaking of magnificent, your fireworks are really insanely cool, and we believe they would be perfect for a little end-of-the-year bash we were considering. Perhaps you might help us with that?

In all seriousness, we were truly delighted to receive your letter, and welcome any further correspondence.  
Ever at your service,  
Carla and Nicole”

George was speechless. He read it through again. And again. And once more, for good measure. These kids were brilliant. The mix of obvious mischief and cheeky charm – it did an old prankster good to know that the younger generations were keeping at it. He grinned. They had probably called McGonagall “their beloved Headmistress” to her face and, Merlin, he wished he had a picture of that. He glanced down again. What the hell kind of 11 year-olds used this kind of formal language?! These girls intrigued him in a way not much had in too long a time. Well, nothing for it. Time to exploit family connections to see if he could find out anything about them without McGonagall noticing…

“Hey, Ronnikins! C’mere!”

\----

Nicole and Carla were lounging on Cole’s bed when the next letter arrived. 

“My Esteemed Colleagues Mr. and Mrs. Jones,

I was delighted to receive your latest, and the news that your supervisor was performing admirably. Unfortunately, I promised my cat I would not send the little girls any of the purchases you were willing to make on their behalf, but thankfully I promised nothing against gifts and sweets. I trust you will remind them to be discreet with the presents, and not get the lot of us into trouble. 

It might interest you to know, my friends, that I have recently happened upon the names of the would-be diplomats that have been much discussed in the ministry as of late. I must say, I admire the ladies their spirit and determination, especially considering their age and qualifications. Perhaps they will find better luck in the future. As it stands, I can vouch for their being excellent formal writers despite their foreign origins; no doubt they've had lots of practice in that style. 

Friends, please do not trouble yourselves to continue your correspondence with Mr. G – he is a very busy sort of fellow and is entirely too preoccupied with running his respectable sort of business to have dealings with the likes of you and me. And I may warn you, his cat is very strict about proofreading his letters. But please, do not let his lack of response prevent you from writing to me. It appears that letters from you, my friends, make my days less tedious. Even my birthday was improved when remembered by you to me.  
Write soon, friends.  
XOXO – W”

The girls stared at one another, dumbstruck. 

“Holy…,” Lottie breathed, “Oh my God.”

“Lottie,” Cole whispered, “I think George Weasley wants to be our secret pen pal friend guy. And he sent us candy. He sent us _cockroach clusters._ ”

Lottie stared at the letter in awe. “He wrote to us like we were adults. Adults, Cole. Adults with _code names._ ”

“This is so James Bond I think I might cry.” Cole said, then squinted at the address of the letter. “I so call Mr. Jones.”

“Only if you wear a moustache and a tweed coat.”

“Well then. You have to carry around your knitting or your needlepoint and wear oversize pearls, Mrs. Jones.”

“Done and done, Mr. Jones. Now toss me that quill. We shouldn’t keep dear ol’ W waiting.” 

\----

The school was buzzing in confusion on the next Saturday, when Nicole and Carla swept into the Great Hall for breakfast in the strangest clothes. Not that the clothes themselves were strange, but why in Merlin’s name would two 11 year-olds be wearing tweed in April? Why was Nicole wearing a large black moustache like it was something she did every day? Why was Carla wearing pearls, and who does embroidery at breakfast? What kind of 11 year-old _embroiders_?

With all the speculation about what the girls were up to now, even Minerva initially missed George Stanley pitching a fit about Cockroach Cluster in his porridge. 

\----

And so the girls continued to write their friend W, who continued to send them small shipments of “presents,” provided they then recount exactly how they enjoyed their gifts. At the end of their first year, their plan for an end-of-the-year firework spectacular (in the works since April 1st, and in honor of the birthday of America, just as a present to themselves), was put into motion, when they approached a few Gryffindor 7th years. 

“You buy the fireworks,” the girls told them, “we’ll get them past the Headmistress.”

\----

“Good day to you, W!

We have thought long and hard about which items are necessary for the gathering just before we ship back overseas. We have spoken to our superiors and they agree with us – they will, of course, be placing the order, we will only be picking it up at your leisure. We do hope we find you well, W, and that your cat’s watchful eyes have been busy elsewhere.

Hope to hear from you soon,  
Your faithful minions”

\----

“Salutations, Sweetheart and Dollface,

Hope this finds you well. The packages will be available in the agreed upon location for 15 minutes on Saturday starting at the usual time.  
Be There or Be Square.  
XOXO –W”

\----

When the 7th years set off the most complex and deafening fireworks display Hogwarts had ever seen, Minerva was suspicious of how smug Nicolasa and Carlotta seemed, when they apparently had had nothing to do with it. But then again, they _had_ been very disappointed that they weren’t going to be at school for their Independence Day, and they _did_ appear to be wearing American flag pins, and the display _did_ prominently feature red, white, and blue….

Minerva elected to ignore these astonishing coincidences, as the fireworks were giving her headaches enough. 

 

When she figured it out sometime later the next year, George Weasley received one hell of a Howler.


	2. BONUS SCENE Y'ALL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so after i posted this zoe and i talked and had IDEAS about what george found out when he did super sneaky research about the girls  
> so of course i had to write this little bby missing scene  
> hooray

These girls intrigued him in a way not much had in too long a time. Well, nothing for it. Time to exploit family connections to see if he could find out anything about them without McGonagall noticing…  
“Hey, Ronnikins! C’mere!”

“What do you want, George?” 

“I need to talk to your wife…”

\----

George had not expected this.

What he had been expecting, he wasn’t sure, but certainly not _this_. He hadn’t seen Hermione this annoyed in ages. Honestly, he was wishing he’d brought snacks, because she’d been ranting for almost five minutes about these kids and didn’t look like she was going to stop anytime soon.

“Hermione, love, give it a rest, will you? They’re just kids. We did all sorts of troublemaking when we were kids.” 

George glared at Ron a little. Watching Hermione be irritated with someone who was not him was always fun, and now his little brother had gone and interrupted her flow.

“Honestly, Ronald, yes we got into trouble, but it was trouble for a cause! We were saving the world from Voldemort! These girls are just making more work for people at the ministry who don’t have the time for it!”

“Hermione, it’s just a couple of letters from some kids-“

“No, Ronald. It’s not ‘just a couple of letters.’ It’s been at least 2 formal petitions to the Ministry and 3 formal petitions to the American Embassy about creating an Embassy outpost in Ravenclaw Tower of all places, and they have written at least 4 letters to Kingsley in support of the idea! Probably more, now that I think about it, but honestly, that’s not the point! The ministry is not going to create foreign embassies at a boarding school, and even if they felt inclined to do so, they would not give ambassador positions to schoolgirls!”

George choked. 

Hermione, mistaking the sudden coughing fit as incredulous disproval (rather than the impressed astonishment it really was), rounded on George and nodded at him. 

“I know! It’s not that I don’t want young people involved in their government, but these kids seem to be using their letters to practice formal writing and-“

“Legal jargon bullshit,” Ron muttered. George raised his eyebrows in silently questioning, _“Jargon”, little brother?_ Ron gestured helplessly to Hermione, who had continued on as though her husband hadn’t interrupted her. 

“-it’s just plain disrespectful, I don’t care how markedly their writing has improved, the government is not a writing workshop for 11-year-olds!” She puffed out a huge breath.

Ron and George exchanged an amused look.

“Hermione, love, are you mad that two American kids are writing to Kingsley and he’s enjoying it, or are you mad that you didn’t think of writing the ministry when we were in school?”

Hermione’s exasperated “RON, that is totally beside the point, and you know the ministry wasn’t worth writing when we were in school anyway, and if you think for a second…” was George’s opportunity to bow out before he was dragged into Hermione and Ron’s weird couple dynamic. 

He’d asked his little brother once about the way he and Hermione seemed to love pushing the other’s buttons, but Ron’s gooey-eyed explanation about “challenging each other” and “considering new perspectives” didn’t really make a whole lot of sense to him, but if it worked for them, hey, it worked for them. Didn’t mean George wanted to stick around to listen to what was sure to be a whole evening of new perspectives.

He waved goodbye to the happy couple, Hermione still ranting and gesticulating wildly about the ministry when they were at Hogwarts, Ron grinning at her like a lovesick dope, and turned his attention back to the information he’d learned. He was definitely responding to these little monsters. Writing to the ministry, demanding to be diplomats at a new embassy in Ravenclaw Tower? Inspired. They’d be good for new joke product ideas, at the very least. 

He paused. He had promised Minerva not to write back to them, though. How to get around this? Maybe a code name. Like that Muggle secret agent thing. Kids love secret agents, right? The James Bond person was called M, maybe he could be G. No, G was stupid. W. He’d be W. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He smiled a little to himself. He could write the whole letter in a secret code…


End file.
